Egg

On Friday I got that call from daycare that you always dread… You know the one.

“Don’t worry, Meeka isn’t SICK. She just, you know, well. She crawled into the couch and now has a bruise covering her entire forehead.”

Indeed.

My baby, the daredevil.

What? I’m *NOT* supposed to run into things head-first?!?!

This picture was taken a day later, when most of the swelling had gone down, and her forehead was a tad more symmetrical; the day before, let’s just say “goose egg” was indeed a fitting description.

This baby girl, she does indeed take after me.

I had many a goose-egg growing up.

My brother hit me in the head with a hammer when I was two.

I was again hit in the head with a baseball bat when I was a little older – perhaps 6 or 7? – which was especially notable because 1) no one saw it and I didn’t tell anyone (I was batgirl at a little league game, was hit by a player who was warming up on the side), and 2) I was wearing a baseball hat that I didn’t take off – and then COULDN’T take off, due to the swelling!

I was also a competitive gymnast, with all the bumps and bruises that entails.

You know how your parents always chuckle when they tell you “I hope you get a child just like you, some day” … I think that wish came true

Who, me? (And a photo-bombing dog hiding in the background!)

Nah, I’d *NEVER* do something silly like run full-tilt into an immovable object… or try to dive head-first off the bed… or climb up the ladder on the slide (and make it up two steps, indeed!)… or chase around after any and every big kid I see… No, not me!